


As You Like It

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [57]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: Remember that story about Athos' past featuring Porthos and Sally? Aramis sure does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



The museum is quiet in that hushed, awed way that always reminds Aramis of a church. The forenoon sun streams in through the windows high overhead, provides a source of natural light that never quite reaches the ground - or even low enough on the walls to damage any of the exhibited art.

Aramis is not quite alone in the exhibition, but since it’s early on a weekday, attendance is sparse. Every noise seems to carry, echoes through the large room. Anywhere else this would irk him, make him feel robbed of the pleasure that can arise from enjoying something as a group, but not here. Here the quiet seems right, almost hallowed.

He’s not alone anyway - Athos is with him … somewhere.

Aramis took the day off to indulge in the new exhibition on Religious Art, and lost Athos in the section on Buddhism. He should be able to find him quickly enough should he want to - they both took their phones with them - but for now he’s quite happy to explore the decadent richness of Catholicism by himself. Athos would probably tease him for his penchant for gold anyway. The gilded rosary in the display case in front of him sure is pretty though.

Aramis sighs and makes a mental note to get Constance flowers for allowing him to skip out on work like this. No, better not flowers. D’Artagnan has got that down. Maybe he can get her a shirtless picture of Porthos. She still likes to tease d’Artagnan with Porthos’ perfection now and again. He takes it in quite good humour now that he has secured her affection for himself, and Aramis rather enjoys being privy to their growing love.

He smiles and moves on to the next piece - an antique pew with quite delicate carvings. He’s vastly appreciative of the cushions sitting on its bench, made up of red velvet with golden stitching and tassels. He studies them with his head tilted to the left, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and wonders if they’re original. Porthos would probably hate them. He’s told Aramis that he’s all for decadence and splendour, but doesn’t think a church is the right place for it. In his opinion religion should be pure, and simple.

Aramis agrees with him, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy the cushions despite all that. He’s looking forward to Porthos joining him and Athos for lunch later, has already formed vague plans to come here again some weekend or other just to show Porthos every single piece of outrageous magnificence and bask in his expression of disgust. Porthos can be alarmingly cute when he’s judgy.

Aramis grins and then jumps in alarm when an unexpected pair of arms sneaks around his middle.

Athos breathes warm air against his neck. “Don’t tell me you still need more cushions at home.”

“Always,” Aramis retorts, relaxing into his embrace. He closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying it thoroughly. He was so very pleased when Athos offered to accompany him, loves these kind of couples outings more than he could ever find the words. They’ve been with each other for so long now that Aramis has started to feel safe - not only in the sense that neither Porthos nor Athos would ever consciously hurt him, but also in their relationship.

He knows them so well now, is able to anticipate much of their actions, of what they want and need. There’s rarely any need to be nervous anymore, not when he’s with them.

So Aramis wasn’t precisely surprised when Athos expressed his desire to join him on this outing. Athos loves art in almost all its forms, and even when he prefers paintings over items of practical use, he still values them, if only for the inspiration they grant him.

Religion is not one of Athos’ areas of interest, and it probably never will be. He has been to church with them precisely once, but spent more time gazing at Aramis than he did paying attention to the pastor. Aramis is fine with that. (He may have blushed quite horribly in church, but that did not diminish his pleasure in the experience in the slightest.)

Athos is a lovely, lovely man, who doesn’t need supernatural guidance in his daily dealings. There are certainly worse things.

There are also worse things than being hugged from behind like this in a public museum. Athos is warm and steady behind Aramis, envelopes him with his affection as he drawls another comment about those exquisite cushions into Aramis’ ear. “The ones we have at home are so much prettier, don’t you think? Although the kittens would probably enjoy the tassels.”

He moves his hands higher on Aramis’ body, strokes them over his belly and upwards, clamps them over Aramis’ shoulders and plasters himself to his back. Aramis is starting to feel a bit faint from this sudden outburst of physical affection.

“I think I need a cup of coffee,” Athos says then. “Possibly a slice of cake.”

Aramis is tempted to laugh. “I thought we promised Porthos to wait for him with the treats.”

“We can have another one when he joins us,” Athos weedles. “Come on, Aramis. I need some caffeine.”

From what Porthos told them the attached café here sells quite amazing things … which is probably why Athos is so very interested in visiting the place. That and the fact that he only had one cup of coffee so far today. The lack of stimulant in his system seems to be affecting him already.

Aramis is tempted to draw this out just to see what Athos might do to convince him. He doesn’t get that far. A woman appears next to them - _right next to them_ \- clearly more interested in their public display of affection than she is in the piece of art they’re blocking from view.

She’s slender and tall, with a wealth of freckles across her nose and almost alarmingly red hair. Aramis can’t tell if the colour’s genuine, and is quickly distracted from her pageboy cut when she opens her mouth and speaks. “Athos?”

Behind Aramis, Athos goes noticeably still.

Aramis wonders why, because she looks nice and sounds harmless enough - is smiling in a slightly disbelieving manner that’s leaning heavily towards the amazed. “It is you, Athos - isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Athos admits. It feels as if he’d like nothing more than to hide himself behind Aramis' back. Instead he slowly lets go of Aramis and takes the hand the woman offers him. “It has been a while.”

The woman beams. “I knew it was you!” She almost immediately pulls her hand away from Athos and thrusts it out at Aramis. “I am so pleased to meet you! What’s your name?”

Aramis is too perplexed to answer right away, so Athos answers for him - in a dull, colourless tone that does not bode well for this encounter. “This is Aramis. He’s Porthos’ -”

“Oh, Porthos knows him too? I’m so glad!” the woman interrupts him with a blinding smile. “I always knew that he’d have to approve of your significant other.” She grabs Aramis’ hand and gives it a vigorous shake, smiling all over her face. “You have no idea how intrigued I am by this development, Aramis. You must be quite wonderful to have caught this one!”

Aramis blinks at her, and she laughs, finally lets go of his hand. “Forgive my rambling - it always happens when I’m excited. Basically negates all of my manners. My name is Sally, by the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. It sure has been a while, hasn't it? I fear the end to this series is near, my friends. Morale is low.


	2. Chapter 2

Aramis is increasingly uncomfortable. The air in the café feels hot and stifling, and he catches himself pulling at the neck of his shirt, hard enough so a button slips open. On any other occasion he’s rather too hot than too cold, but not today. Today Athos is all but squirming on the spindle-legged chair next to his, and Aramis has to execute a lot of self-control to keep himself from squirming in sympathy.

Sally appears to be unaware of the distress she is causing. She hasn’t stopped smiling - or talking - since they’ve sat down. She insisted on joining them for a cup of coffee, and is now waving excitedly at the lone waiter supervising the elegant little room at this time of day.

Aramis wishes she would just … stop.

She doesn’t. She’s too full of energy, too full of happy determination - overflowing with it even. Aramis watches her flirt with the waiter and wonders if he’d like her better if he didn’t know about what she _did_. He probably would. She’s pretty and lively, apparently bears Athos no ill-will for his role in her relationship with Porthos, and how it came to an end.

Sally orders coffee and chocolate cake for all three of them - after checking with Athos and Aramis - and finally settles down. A collection of bangles rattles on her left wrist as she leans in and puts her elbows on the table, trying to hide her increasingly blinding smile behind her folded hands. “So: tell me!”

She’s a little bit like Hannah, Aramis realises. His sister has no filter either; nor has she a functional radar regarding boundaries and appropriate moments. Had his past not put a severe damper on his vivacity he’d probably be like this as well.

Athos remains mute, and Aramis clears his throat, summons a smile. “How long has it been since you two last met?”

Sally’s smile doesn’t falter for a single second. “Oh, ten years at least!” Something flickers across her eyes, and Aramis hopes that she’s finally remembered _why_ it has been so very long. She takes a deep breath, and a little laugh escapes her. “A little too long to tell me _everything_ , I guess. How is Porthos? I hope he’s as well as ever?”

“He is,” Athos says in a soft voice, affection evident in his eyes. “He hasn’t changed.”

“But you definitely have.” Sally looks at Aramis and drops her hands to let him have the full force of her grin. “I am so happy for you, Athos - you have no idea. I’m so glad you finally realized what you were missing out on for so long.”

Athos’ expression freezes, and all warmth drops from his eyes, and Aramis feels a painful tug in his belly. He sits up a little straighter, tries to breathe through the discomfort, and doesn’t know if he should be relieved or annoyed when the waiter returns to their table to deliver their order.

They remain quiet while he arranges cups and plates on the table, and thank him once he’s finished. Sally picks up where she left off the very second he turns his back on them. “So, how did that happen? How did you meet?”

Aramis turns his head to look at Athos, and encounters a silent plea for help. Aramis takes his hand, and Sally takes another deep breath, audibly pleased with this display.

“I met Porthos online,” he says quietly. “We know each other through him.”

Sally’s brow creases, but only for as long as it takes her to arrange that statement to her liking. “Oh, you mean you met Porthos on a social network?”

“Ye-es,” Aramis says, stretching the word thoughtfully. “I guess a dating site counts as a social network.”

Athos squeezes his hand. Aramis smiles at him.

Sally looks thunderstruck. “You dated Porthos first?”

“Yes,” Aramis confirms, deciding to just lay the facts on the table and be done with it. “I’m still dating him actually.” He pauses, summons his courage. “Both of us are.”

Sally blinks, assimilates that information, and _pouts_. “Why did you make such a big fuss when I was with Porthos then?” she asks Athos. “You broke us up over nothing!”

She doesn’t sound angry, just confused and a little huffy, but Aramis still goes cold with protective indignation. He can tell that Athos has no answer ready for this, that her presence and the memories she stirred up have shaken and all but paralyzed him.

“The one who broke up with you was Porthos, not Athos,” Aramis hears himself say. “Because you hurt his best friend.”

Sally scrunches up her nose. “I did no such thing.”

“Yes, you did,” Aramis insists, amazed by his own tenacity, but unable to stop and be quiet. His anxiety is hammering away in his chest, but the need to protect Athos is stronger. “You made him feel broken, like he owed you favours for spending time with him, like he wasn’t perfect precisely the way he was!”

His voice gets a little growly towards the end of that speech, and Sally’s eyes widen. “But I just wanted to help.”

“Then you should have left him alone, instead of using emotional blackmail to get what you want.”

Sally stares at him and remains quiet, looks at Athos with a frown on her face. “Is that really how … how it felt to you?”

“Yes,” Athos says softly. Aramis’ chest constricts in sympathy. He knows precisely how difficult it can be to admit to these things.

Sally grimaces. “I’m sorry.”

Aramis isn’t quite done with her yet, even when he can hear his blood rushing through his ears by now. “Do you still think that people who don’t like sex need to be fixed?”

This time Sally remains quiet for a little longer. Eventually she hangs her head, pokes at her untouched chocolate cake with her fork. “Jesus, I really messed up back then, didn’t I.”

Aramis deflates like a popped balloon animal.

“You did,” Athos says unexpectedly. “I never quite recovered.” Her head snaps up in alarm, and Athos smiles at her, weak and exhausted, but he smiles. “I’m glad we finally got to talk about this.”

She forks off a giant bite of cake and stuffs it into her mouth, her fair skin flushed, making the freckles across her nose stand out all the more. Aramis follows her lead, and it turns out that the cake is perfect - moist and rich, with a creamy chocolate ganache. He sighs.

Athos looks from one to the other and plays with his coffee spoon, not yet touching his cake. Behind them the waiter decides to finally let some air into the room and opens the door towards the museum, fixes it in place and returns to his post behind the counter.

Sally swallows her bite of cake and clears her throat. “God, that was awkward.” She looks at Athos head-on, still flushed, but not quite as red as before. “I really am sorry, Athos. I always thought Porthos was overreacting back then, but I see now that he really wasn’t. I’m glad you two found someone who … who understands you a little better.”

“He understands me a lot better, apparently,” Athos says, picking up his coffee cup while Aramis stares very hard at the little flower vase in the middle of the table. Athos just sounded too touched just now, too enamoured, and Aramis’ heart feels like it might burst.

Sally utters a little huff of fond amusement. “So I see.”


	3. Chapter 3

Porthos is pouting when he joins them. Possibly because Aramis failed to inform him of the unexpected addition to their group, and merely told him to meet them in the café instead of at the entrance like they’d discussed beforehand.

At the time Aramis was too distracted by Athos’ hand on his thigh, and not able to type out more than two sentences. No wonder Porthos got the wrong idea.

Thus the pout.

Aramis watches him come in through the door leading to the street, a confused lilt to his eyebrows as he scans the little room for their presence, wondering if it’s too soon to panic. It usually is. Aramis tends to panic for quite unnecessary reasons.

But this time he’s allowing Porthos to walk in on his two current boyfriends enjoying coffee and cake with his former girlfriend, and even though Porthos isn’t the type to harbour grievances, he did part from Sally in discord. He might not want to see her again.

Due to the size of the room it doesn’t take him long to spot them, despite the fact that they have to share the café with other people at this point, and their single waiter has been joined by a second.

Aramis starts to feel fluttery, watching him advance, possibly because Porthos is just too handsome. It’s not always his anxiety, making his heart race like that. Lately it has been mostly Athos and Porthos, really.

“You’re a pair of greedy goblins,” Porthos accuses them upon reaching the table. “I thought we said that -” He stops, registering the redhead sitting at their table, stares down at Sally while she’s grinning up at him, visibly pleased at his evident surprise.

“Hi.”

“Sally?” he splutters, and his eyes flick over and at Athos, blazing with worry, making Aramis’ stomach twist with guilt. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Monopolizing your boyfriends,” she says airily, getting up from her chair. “You’re such a lucky cricket.”

He allows her to hug him, possibly because he’s still too stunned to put up resistance. Aramis smiles at him, striving to look both calming and apologetic at the same time. “We only had the one slice of cake, promise!”

Porthos looks at Athos again, and receives a smile from him as well, accompanied by a reassuring little nod. “I wasn’t even allowed more than one cup of coffee. Aramis was adamant.”

Sally has by this time let go of Porthos and taken reposession of her chair, leaving the one between her and Aramis to claim for himself. “Yes, they were very modest. Although the cake here is amazing. _Amazing_ , I tell you!”

Her enthusiasm finally gets a chuckle of amusement out of Porthos, and he relaxes, allows Aramis to relax with him, and studies Sally with rather more attention than he previously managed. “You look good.”

“So do you,” she grins, poking him in the bicep. “Keeping up the good work, I see.”

“Always,” he grins back. “You still dancin’?”

She smiles. “Oh yes. I finally have a partner I can really work with without having to starve myself for the lifts.”

They discuss dancing and diets for a few minutes, with a short interruption while Porthos orders his coffee and two different types of cake. The rest of them grasp the opportunity and start in on their second round. Once the waiter has scribbled down their orders Sally clears her throat and starts to play with her fork. “I guess you can tell from the way these two haven’t fled my presence yet that Athos and I managed to bury the hatchet.”

Porthos tilts his head to the side, the left corner of his mouth twitching into the resemblance of a grin. “I was wonderin’.”

Aramis blushes, the mere memory of his unusual behavior more than sufficient to raise his blood pressure. Athos sees, takes his hand, and gently clears his throat. “All thanks to Aramis, I cannot stress that fact enough.”

That earns Aramis an extremely pleased smile from Porthos - the kind with sparkling eyes and gleaming teeth that makes flowers grow in the desert. “Yeah?”

“Oh yes,” Athos drawls. Aramis blushes a little more and basically clings to Athos’ hand.

“He’s a real sweetheart,” Sally adds her mite. “Very protective.”

Aramis wishes he had some coffee and cake to hide behind.

Porthos looks like he wants to eat him, eyes all dark and appreciative, horribly proud. “Yeah, I know.”

Aramis very nearly meeps. God, this is too much. He catches Sally grinning in a very knowing way, twitches when she winks at him, and has to suppress a gasp of relief when the waiter arrives with their orders.

“Don’t burn your tongue,” Athos says quietly when he makes an immediate grab for his coffee cup, and Aramis pulls back his hand and slumps in his chair.

Porthos leans sideways and presses a kiss to his cheek. “No reason to be embarrassed, kitten. You did good.”

At this point Aramis is pretty much ready to slip off his chair and dissolve into a pink pool of jelly under the table. Both Athos and Porthos seem to be aware - they draw Sally into an exchange of happy memories and even happier news, tell her all about the kittens, Porthos’ kids and little Jasmine, and eventually send her off into an almost balmy February evening, her apparently endless energy not diminished in the least by hours of sharing.

They remain outside the café’s doors for a moment, gazing after her in silence, still heated from the stuffy inside air. Then Porthos pulls Aramis into his arms, right in the golden square of light of the big café window. He holds him tight for a long moment, presses another kiss to his hot cheek. “You’re amazin’.” Athos joins their embrace with quiet insistence, receives a kiss as well. “My beautiful and brave heroes.”

“Oh please,” Athos drawls. “I didn’t do anything. It was all Aramis.”

Aramis cuddles into them, pushes his face into the v-shaped opening of Porthos’ jacket and takes a deep breath. “I really had to.”

“You deserve a reward,” Porthos rumbles in a fond voice, makes Aramis shiver with the implications.

“I agree,” Athos says, unexpectedly. Well, maybe not that unexpectedly. What’s unexpected is not so much the fact he said it - it’s his tone, and the hand roaming over Aramis’ back … quite low over his back.

Porthos notices and utters a sound of amazed approval. “Buryin’ hatchets gets your blood goin’ - does it, love?”

“Nonsense, it was Aramis’ display of manly heroism that got to me,” Athos corrects him. His voice is warm and vaguely amused, but entirely earnest. “It was utterly irresistible.”

“Well,” Porthos says, practical as ever. “Then we better get home, eh?”

Aramis truly hopes their plans include carrying him, because his knees are most certainly too weak for walking.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Athos and Porthos do upon arriving at home is stick Aramis into the tub. Well, that’s not quite true. First they pet and feed the cats, _then_ they march Aramis off into the bathroom to stick him into the tub.

“Let us take care of you tonight,” Athos says, sitting on its broad tiled rim, adjusting the temperature of the water. “You have earned yourself some spoiling.”

Aramis is rather distracted by Porthos stripping him out of his clothes, but he manages a flustered smile nevertheless. “You really don’t have to.”

“Yeah, we do,” Porthos insists, unbuttoning Aramis’ shirt. “If we give you a bath after we’re done with you, you might drown.”

Aramis goes still, and his eyes fly up to Porthos’ face. It’s rather difficult not to draw conclusions from that statement, and right this moment, all of Aramis’ conclusions are horribly naughty. He licks his lips. “What are you going to do to me?”

“All the best things,” Porthos promises him. He continues to unbutton Aramis’ shirt and takes it off him, pulls up the tank top Aramis is wearing underneath and strokes his hands up Aramis’ chest, flicks his thumbs over Aramis’ nipples. “If you want us to, that is.”

Aramis finds it rather difficult to refrain from panting. “I want you to.”

Athos smirks and gets up from his spot by the bathtub, steps up to them to place his hand on Aramis’ hip and stroke it gently up and down. “I am very pleased to hear you say so.” He looks at Porthos and the corners of his mouth curl a little higher. “Shall we team up against him?”

Porthos feigns a bow. “It would be my honor.”

Aramis cuddles up to him, already aroused and too comfortable to hide it. “Am I allowed to surrender myself right away?”

“Oh yes,” Athos murmurs, leaning in so he can brush a kiss to Aramis’ cheek. “That won’t make us go any easier on you though.”

Aramis shivers as most of his blood rushes down to his cock. He’s fantasized about them tag-teaming him more than once - has come up with quite a number of different scenarios. But even in his wildest dreams he has never allowed himself to expect for it to actually _happen_. Even now he tries to remember that he mustn’t overwhelm Athos, that he can’t expect too much.

Still, he will take everything they give him, eagerly.

“How about we test the new bathing oil I purchased the other day?” Athos asks in a nonchalant tone that does unexpected things to Aramis’ libido. “I imagine it might make it rather pleasurable to prepare him, no?”

Aramis closes his eyes and presses closer to Porthos, needs something sturdy to cling to. Porthos promptly reaches down and grabs his ass, gives it a good squeeze, sends an excited tingle down to Aramis’ cock. “You have all the best ideas, love.”

Aramis feels Athos smile against his skin where he’s still holding his mouth close to his cheek, wants to turn his head and have Athos claim him. “Then you better divest him of his remaining clothing while I add it to the water.”

With that he lets go and steps away, and Porthos allows Aramis to ride his thigh for a few seconds, then he moves to follow Athos’ orders. One glance at Aramis’ flushed face brings a rather smug grin to his features, but he’s gentle as he strips Aramis out of his pants, makes sure not to let him tumble.

“You look like you’ve stumbled into a dream,” he whispers into Aramis’ ear once he has him completely naked. “Tell us when it gets too much, yeah? We don’t wanna overwhelm you.”

Aramis nods, has no idea how to tell Porthos that there’s no chance in hell he’s ever going to tell them to stop. He _wants_ to be overwhelmed - wants them to drown him in pleasure until he forgets his own name.

He swallows and licks his lips, slowly turns his head to see what Athos is up to. He finds him half naked, stripped out of his top, pale skin looking soft and inviting in the low light of the room.

“Don’t let it run too full,” he hears Porthos say. “We don’t need that much water with all three of us in the tub.”

Athos nods and turns off the tab, then he reaches out his hand, smiles at Aramis. “Come here.” 

No siren song could ever aspire to the irresistible pull Aramis experiences from that simple command. He rushes towards Athos, is greeted by a pair of welcoming arms, closes his eyes when Athos holds him for a moment. “Are you ready?”

Aramis nods and receives a kiss, soft and sweet. Athos doesn’t so much push his tongue into his mouth as gently probe at the seam of his lips, doesn’t allow Aramis more than a taste before he pulls back. “Then we better start, yes?”

Aramis nods once more. When he turns his head he sees that Porthos already got into the tub while he was distracted, is now almost blinded by the unexpected display of miles and miles of dark skin, only made more tempting by the shimmer of the oily water. The room is warm, the air heavy with the smell of the hamam essence Athos added to the tub.

Porthos grins when he sees Aramis scramble to follow him in, urges him to be careful and receives Aramis on top of him with gentle guidance. “There, all comfortable. You comin’, love?”

“Yes, I shall be with you immediately.”

But first Athos has to strip out of his pants, a process Aramis watches eagerly. His cock is already more than interested in the proceedings anyway, lies hot and heavy against Porthos’ belly, sensitive to the touch. Porthos is stroking his hands over Aramis’ back while they wait for Athos to join them, draws idle swirls and flowers onto Aramis’ skin, makes him shiver. By the time Athos is naked Aramis’ body is singing with need, wants to be touched and held, is eager to be used.

Athos doesn’t make him wait, climbs into the tub right away, makes himself comfortable at Aramis’ back. “Here I am.”

He glances over Aramis’ shoulder and down at his straining erection and smiles, leans in to brush a kiss to Aramis’ shoulder. “Is the anticipation getting to you already?”

Aramis nods and utters a breathy “Yes” - receives a kiss in reward. Once again Athos is gentle and almost teasing; he licks into Aramis’ mouth and makes him sigh ... refuses to kiss him with the insistence Aramis desires, keeps it light and sweet.

Aramis whines and Porthos chuckles, moves his hand lower on Aramis’ back and strokes a finger down his cleft. “Impatient, are we?”

Aramis moans and Athos kisses him deeper, starts to stroke his chest, to tease his nipples, and Aramis’ cock twitches from the double stimulation.

“There you go,” Porthos whispers into his ear, pressing that probing finger to his hole. “Just let us take care of you.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Aramis thinks back to the start of his day he finds it rather amazing how he managed to end a trip to the museum with … this. Not to mention dizzying. The air in the bathroom is fragrant and moist, but that’s not the reason why he finds it difficult to focus.

He’s sandwiched between Athos and Porthos, with his head resting against Porthos’ chest, enveloped in warmth. They keep caressing him, both of them, keep fondling his over-sensitive skin, relentlessly affectionate.

He’s already hard enough to leak precome, and yet he doesn’t want to move and do anything about it - doesn’t want to touch himself and hasten his climax. He has surrendered himself after all … doesn’t think his lovers would allow him to lay a hand on himself anyway.

Athos is far too fond of teasing him, keeps stroking his hands over Aramis’ chest and belly, gentle and explorative, with the occasional pinch to his nipples, makes Aramis twitch and moan each and every time. Porthos is far more forward in his touches, hasn’t stopped stroking the fingers of his right hand up and down Aramis’ cleft, keeps pushing against his hole, makes him quiver.

“Is this good for you?” Athos whispers into his ear and Aramis nods, biting his lip. He’s afraid of the noise he might make if he opens his mouth and tries to speak.

Porthos, because he always is, appears to be aware. “No need to hold it inside,” he tells Aramis. “We’re gonna tease it out of you anyway.” With that he pushes the tip of his finger into Aramis, and he squeals, twitches against Porthos as shivers of pleasure run up and down his spine. Porthos smirks. “There, didn’t I tell you?” His breath is hot against Aramis’ ear, sends another shiver down Aramis’ back.

“That was a very good noise,” Athos observes, satisfaction thick in his voice. “Do it again.” He pinches Aramis’ left nipple rather harder than before, and Aramis’ eyes roll back into his head as his mouth falls open around another squeal.

“So obedient,” Porthos murmurs, brushing his lips over Aramis’ cheek. “I like that.”

“Yes, me too,” Athos agrees, kissing Aramis’ shoulder as his hand resumes its gentle stroking from before. “He’s rather irresistible like this.”

Their amiable back and forth only adds to the sensation of helplessness spreading inside Aramis. His trust in them is absolute, doesn’t allow fear or doubt into his heart. He wants this, _needs_ this; so he moans and clenches around Porthos’ finger inside him, urging it deeper. Porthos promptly strokes his left hand over Aramis’ ass, pulls his cheeks apart and gratifies his desire. “He’s already gettin’ all needy on us, love,” he tells Athos. “We better get him to bed sooner rather than later, eh?”

“Yes, we don’t want to exhaust him prematurely.” The statement doesn’t stop Athos from pinching both of Aramis’ nipples at once, making him moan again, smearing Porthos’ belly with precome. “But first we have to clean him up properly.”

He moves ever so slightly away, and when he next touches Aramis, it’s with the aid of a washcloth. Aramis closes his eyes as it travels over his body, gentle and thorough and never quite intense enough to distract him from the sensation of Porthos’ finger inside his ass.

Porthos keeps stretching him while Athos cleans him up; they’re both preparing him for what’s to come, and Aramis is slowly but surely losing his mind. He feels so warm, so safe … horny and helpless and needy. He can’t help but clench around Porthos’ finger, again and again, can’t help the twitching of his hips either. They’ve already reduced him to wanton instinct, and Aramis knows that he will beg once they start in on him in earnest, but he also knows that there won’t be any shame attached to it.

Athos guides the washcloth over his chest and down towards his cock, and Aramis whimpers when it connects, fears that he won’t be able to hold out once Athos starts to clean him here as well.

“You can come as many times as you like,” Athos whispers into his ear, “but know that we will not stop when you do. I for one intend to keep going until I am utterly satisfied with you.”

Aramis has an inkling that by the time this night is over he will be able to come from the sound of Athos’ voice alone. Now he spreads his legs for him, offers himself.

Athos smiles and reaches down, moves the washcloth over the length of Aramis’ straining cock and cups his balls, tugs them upwards ever so gently.

Aramis gasps and tips his head back, eyes still closed, bares his throat. He feels Porthos chuckle against his chest, and then he’s kissing him, takes possession of Aramis’ mouth. They make him come undone between them, with their touches and their kisses, quietly praise him as he shakes apart, his moans swallowed by Porthos’ lips.

He’s more sensitive than ever, afterwards, doesn’t have the strength left to protest when Porthos pulls his finger out of him and turns him around in the tub until Aramis resting with his back to his chest. He holds Aramis as Athos continues to wash him, holds him up on his feet so he can rinse them all down afterwards.

“There,” Athos says, turning off the water. “Now you’re ready.”

Aramis is leaning heavily against Porthos, his gaze unfocused, can’t seem to stop smiling. “I am?”

Porthos holds him a little tighter, curls a protective arm around him. “As ready as you’ll ever be, I’d say.” He looks at Athos over Aramis’ shoulder, and Aramis can hear the smile in his voice. “Help me get him out onto the mat, eh?”

Athos nods and climbs out of the tub first. He extends his arms to Aramis once he’s on safe ground, and together they manoeuver Aramis out of the tub, wrap him in a soft, warm towel.

Aramis sighs. “You two are so lovely.”

Athos leans in to give him a kiss while Porthos holds him from behind once more, strokes Aramis’ hair out of his face. “This is merely the beginning, my love.”

From him the use of an endearment such as this is rare enough to make Aramis melt, and he clings to Athos, doesn’t want to ever let him go.

Porthos gives him a good squeeze. “Come on now. Off to bed. I want to watch you guys be naughty with each other.” He doesn’t wait for Aramis to let go of Athos, but pulls away the towel, rubs Aramis down with gentle determination, makes him tingle all over with rather more attention to detail than is entirely necessary.

Once he’s done he returns the towel to its spot on the wall heater and puts his hands on his hips, the picture of physical perfection. “Want me to carry you?”

Aramis bites his lip, looking at him. “Absolutely.”

That earns him a twinkle and a smug grin. “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely beta will be on an extremely deserved holiday for the next few days, so y'all will have to wait for the next part to this for a little while.
> 
> Poor, poor Aramis.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my trusty beta has returned!

Being carried by Porthos sometimes makes Aramis feel rather peculiar. Because there’s never just one sensation, one aspect to focus on. Porthos is strong, and he is warm: a solid, safe bastion of care. Being in his arms makes Aramis feel cherished, gives him a sense of security, and, in moments like this, it turns him on beyond belief. It’s such a weird mixture of childlike trust and a very adult desire that what it comes down to is overwhelmed helplessness. In a good way.

Aramis whiles away the short trip from the bathroom to the bedroom by mapping the area between Porthos’ neck and his shoulder with his lips, leaves a trail of lingering kisses, each more affectionate than the last. Porthos allows him to proceed without comment, lets Athos open and close the bedroom door, and carries Aramis towards the bed. Only then does he dip his head and catch Aramis’ lips with his own, kisses him deep and demanding, and sits down on the side of the bed with Aramis in his lap.

Aramis is rather out of breath when they part, his gaze unfocused when he opens his eyes to look at Porthos. Porthos smiles at him. “Hey there. You up to some naughtiness?”

Aramis’ mouth pulls into an answering smile. “Always.”

He receives another kiss for that, and then Porthos turns his head and looks up at Athos who’s standing beside the bed, expression patient and fond. “What do you wanna do with him, love?”

Aramis tilts his head up as well as a flutter of excitement trickles all the way down to his toes. Porthos has played with him plenty of times in the bedroom, and Aramis has become familiar with his sexual preferences and characteristics.

Athos, on the other hand, will be a whole new world to explore.

Appropriately, Athos is smirking. “I would like to prepare him, quite thoroughly, and then fill him up with one of your dildos - so he remains nice and open for you to take at your leisure after he fellates me.”

Aramis feels Porthos give the lightest twitch beneath him, while he himself experiences a shudder of thrill to his very core. “Sounds good to me.”

Athos _winks_ at him. “I am glad.”

“Yeah, this should be fun,” Porthos agrees. He gives Aramis a loving squeeze and then turns to lift him off his lap, gently sets him down on the mattress before he gets up. “You want the black one, kitten?”

“Yes,” Aramis says, blushing ever so slightly. It is his favourite dildo, after all.

He watches Porthos walk over to the dresser that contains the not-sock drawer, and is surprised by Athos joining him on the bed. Ere he knows what’s happening to him Athos has pushed him down by one shoulder and is leaning over him, a smile in his eyes as he’s getting closer.

Aramis tilts his chin up for a kiss and Athos gratifies him, claims his mouth. He’s not as reserved now as he was in the bathroom, makes Aramis go boneless with the way he uses his tongue. Because Athos’ kisses are different from Porthos’; they always remain light, almost precise. As much as Athos enjoys kissing Aramis, he doesn’t get sloppy, doesn’t turn them dirty.

That doesn’t mean Aramis won’t try.

By the time Porthos returns with the black dildo Aramis is sucking on Athos’ tongue, his body turned towards Athos’ above him. His legs have fallen open and his cock is getting hard again, wants the hand resting on his hip rather further to the left.

He feels the bed dip beside him and whines, knows that they’re about to be interrupted. But Porthos allows them to continue, if only for a moment. Aramis flushes, knowing that he’s being watched; still he can’t seem to stop. His control has started to slip the very moment they put him in the tub, and now he feels needy and vulnerable, greedy for more.

Thus Athos is the one to break their kiss, and Porthos is the one to hold Aramis down when he whines again and tries to reclaim Athos’ mouth. “Enough of that for the moment, kitten. Athos has a plan for you, remember?” He’s brought the dildo and his favourite brand of lube, and Aramis watches him settle down in the middle of the bed, legs crossed in front of him, blinks when he gestures at his lap. “Come here.”

They usually do this lying down.

Porthos registers Aramis’ confusion and smirks. “Don’t worry, kitten. I won’t let you fall off.”

Aramis huffs and scrambles upright, crawls into Porthos’ lap. They’re both of them half hard, and it feels amazing to sink into the seat of Porthos’ crossed legs.

Their skin is warm, smooth and oily from the bath, and Aramis groans when Porthos’ hands find his ass and span wide over his cheeks to pull him in. “You seein’ alright, love?”

“Yes, my view is excellent, thank you,” Athos drawls from behind Aramis’ back. “You may commence.”

Aramis loves how Athos always seems to get extra posh in the bedroom. He puts his arms around Porthos’ neck and inhales, bites his lip when Porthos uncaps the bottle of lube. He waits for it to warm in his hand before he brings it back to Aramis’ ass and pushes a finger inside, easier than usual thanks to his previous efforts in the tub.

Half a second later he’s brushing up against Aramis’ prostate, makes Aramis moan and shiver. “Heh, I’m gettin’ real good at this.”

“Modesty was never one of your strong suits,” Athos comments, moving to sit directly behind Aramis on the bed. “I believe you will have to teach me how to do this at one point.”

“I’d love to,” Porthos says, his finger circling Aramis open, gentle and careful as always. “You can get your fingers in next, if you wanna.”

Aramis thinks he might combust. His breath hitches at the very idea, and he leans his forehead against Porthos’ chest, firmly closes his eyes. Then Athos touches him.

His hand glides over Aramis’ shoulder and his back, its touch light, but far from imaginary. Athos is painting on him, Aramis realizes, little swirls and images only he can see.

“I want to,” Aramis hears him say, his voice soft and quiet, the way it goes when Athos is battling a rather violent onset of emotions. “I want to be able to make him feel good.”

Porthos chuckles. “I’m pretty sure you already know how to do that.”

Athos’ hand reaches Aramis’ ass then, and Porthos pulls out. “Go ahead, let him have it.”

It almost sounds like a threat. Aramis’ sanity is feeling properly threatened alright.


	7. Chapter 7

If Aramis was allowed no more than one word to describe what he’s feeling right now, that word would probably be _heat_.

Not that he’s up to describing anything at the moment. His mind is hazy, has retreated to some safe corner and given the reins to his body, lets it enjoy itself without supervision.

Still he’s aware of the heat of Porthos’ body underneath him, of the heat of Athos’ fingers probing his hole. He’s got two inside of him now, gentle and careful, but surprisingly self-assured. Athos is far from clumsy in the way he’s preparing him, and Aramis twitches against Porthos, clings to the solid frame that are his shoulders.

“He’s doin’ well, isn’t he, kitten?” Porthos asks, a knowing grin tainting his voice. “See, our Athos always had nimble fingers.”

Aramis nods and lifts his head, presses his mouth to Porthos’, needs something other to focus on than the heat inside of him. Porthos kisses him back without reservation, and Aramis moans as his eyelids droop and his entire body surrenders itself. He’s theirs now - he always has been theirs - and he knows that they will treat him right, that there’s nothing to worry about.

So he doesn’t worry.

He allows the heat to consume him, moves his hips back and forth, greedy for both Athos’ fingers inside his ass and the sensation of Porthos’ cock rubbing up against his own. Athos keeps brushing against his prostate as he’s scissoring him open, makes Aramis whimper and twitch and kiss Porthos in an increasingly sloppy manner.

The oil on their skin makes it more difficult to hold on to him than usual, but Porthos doesn’t let him fall, just like he promised. His hands are spanned wide over Aramis’ hips, thumbs brushing back and forth now and again, sweet and caressing as ever. Aramis is safe in Porthos’ lap, and he can feel Athos sitting at his back; it’s another source of heat, another source of comfort.

“I believe he is ready,” Athos says then, and Porthos’ hands grip Aramis a little tighter.

“Is that right?” he rasps after breaking their kiss, leaves Aramis panting against his shoulder. “Lemme check.”

So Athos pulls back his fingers and Porthos moves to replace him, smooth and quick, doesn’t leave Aramis empty for more than a few seconds. Aramis shivers, and Athos reaches out to steady him, strokes his back and murmurs nonsensical words of reassurance, makes Aramis go limp with trust.

“Yeah, he’s good,” Porthos rules, brushing a kiss to Aramis’ cheek. “You wanna put your mouth on Athos’ cock now, kitten, like he planned?”

Aramis licks his lips, can’t help but slur his answer, drunk with lust. “Yeah, I want that.”

“I thought you might,” Porthos says. “Come on up then and turn around, so I can fill you up with that dildo while you enjoy yourself.” He pulls out again, helps Aramis off his lap and get onto all fours, facing Athos on the bed - facing Athos’ _lap_. “Lovely,” he comments. “Brace yourself, sweetness, I’m gonna put it inside you now.”

He gives Aramis two seconds to prepare himself, and then the hard tip of the dildo presses against Aramis’ hole and inside, slow and steady. Aramis looks up at Athos’ face, and suddenly he feels exposed, unconcealed and on display, all of his sins right there on the surface for Athos to see.

And Athos smiles, extinguishes that flare of fear before it can spread. “I know,” he says. “I know, my love.” He puts his hand to Aramis’ cheek and strokes his thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s quite alright.” His hand glides backward and into Aramis’ hair, and then he guides him down and over his cock, gentle and insistent all at once.

So Aramis gives in, because they make giving in so easy; he yields to the dildo in his ass and the hand in his hair, opens his mouth to lap at Athos’ cock just as Porthos pushes the dildo all the way inside.

Aramis moans and clenches around it, and Athos’ hand in his hair tightens as his cock reacts to Aramis’ ministrations. It swells under his tongue and Aramis takes a greedy breath, nuzzles it before he resumes licking, his arousal making it impossible for him to stop.

Part of him notices when Porthos moves on the bed to sit beside him, notices when he takes Athos’ free hand into his to brush a kiss to its palm. “You two are gorgeous.”

“Just look at him,” Athos murmurs, his fingers gliding through Aramis’ hair, fingertips brushing against his scalp.

“I am,” Porthos rumbles. “Makes me wanna do all kinds of naughty things to him.”

Aramis closes his eyes, takes Athos’ cock into his mouth, and Athos’ voice falters. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

Porthos chuckles. “True. There’s still room for improvement though.” With that he moves again, back into his original spot behind Aramis.

Aramis doesn’t think anything of it, is far too focussed on the cock in his mouth. Only then Porthos gets a hold of the dildo, grabs its end and _twists_ , and Aramis squeals as the thing suddenly pushes against his prostate. He pushes his ass up in instinct, wants more of that delicious stimulation, and Porthos gratifies him, moves the dildo again and again, until Aramis is dizzy with lust.

His cock is heavy between his spread legs, curving up towards his belly, and he can’t stop moving back and forth, can’t stop his hips from swaying, just as he can’t stop sucking on Athos’ cock.

He’s deliciously overwhelmed by this onslaught on his senses - Athos’ taste and weight on his tongue, Porthos’ assault on his nerve endings, the feeling of the sheets under his hands and knees, _everything_.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to see,” he hears Porthos’ voice, husky with arousal. “You gettin’ all sloppy and weak between us.”

Aramis moans and swallows around Athos’ cock, and Athos’ breath hitches. “You’re so wonderful.”

It makes Aramis feel as if he could fly.

They own him body and soul, and he loves it - doesn’t care that there’s spit running down his chin, that he keeps leaking precome, resulting in a mess on the sheets. All he wants is to make Athos come and drink it all up, is for Porthos to fuck him until he can’t see straight anymore. It feels so good to be used like this, to be cherished by his lovers and make them feel good, to do whatever it is they want.

There’s something incredibly peaceful about letting go like this, something safe and wondrous, entirely without shame. Aramis has never felt quite like this, so vulnerable and open, utterly indestructible.

He whimpers when Athos tries to pull him off his cock, pushes even further down and swallows it all when Athos comes, clenches around the dildo, so very close to his own climax that it only turns him on more. Only when Athos is spent does Aramis lift his head, still lapping at the now soft cock, humming with pleasure when Athos pets his hair.

“There,” he hears Porthos’ voice behind him. “Now it’s my turn.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Stay like this, kitten,” Aramis hears Porthos whisper from behind his back. “The view is just too perfect.”

With that he pulls the dildo out of Aramis’ ass in one swift, fluid motion, and Aramis gasps, clenches his suddenly empty hole.

Athos makes a soothing noise and pets his hair, and Aramis relaxes instantly, looks up at Athos’ face and smiles, expression unguarded and sweet - smiles only wider when he finds nothing but affection in Athos’ gaze.

“Hurry up,” Athos says to Porthos, never breaking eye-contact with Aramis. “He doesn’t like to be empty - do you, my love?”

Aramis shakes his head and spreads his legs a little wider, tries to push himself up on his hands so he can kiss Athos, only for him to buckle and sink back down when Porthos lines himself up and pushes into him. They both moan, and Aramis fights to keep himself still, when all he wants to do is push back and sink onto that perfect cock until it is all the way inside of him.

Athos resumes petting him while Porthos’ hands on his hips keep him in place, and Aramis feels the world slip away around him, feels his sanity give way to something else. He doesn’t register when his mouth falls open, doesn’t hear the little noises of bliss falling over his lips - the endless stream of _ah, ah, ah_ , intermingled with Porthos’ name and a breathless plea for more.

“Gimme a moment,” Porthos whispers behind him, while Aramis is staring at Athos’ cock, willing it to get hard again so he can suck it once more. He pushes out his tongue without realizing, and suddenly Athos’ hand in his hair fixes its grip and pulls him up, and Athos claims his mouth with almost violent insistence.

Porthos’ throat produces a hoarse grunt and he slides the last few inches into Aramis with a thrust that’s so much harder than usual that Aramis sways on his hands and knees and his leaking cock swings up to brush against his belly.

He whimpers against Athos’ lips, clenches around Porthos’ cock, and then Athos’ kiss turns soft and sweet, and Porthos strokes his hands over his back. “Sorry, kitten.”

“More,” Aramis moans, doesn’t recognize his own voice. He feels Porthos’ cock twitch inside him, feels Athos’ hand grip his hair tight again. “Please,” he hears himself beg. “Please, more.”

He wants to say it again, but Athos seals his lips, claims his mouth again, and then Porthos’ hips snap forward and push all remaining rationality from Aramis’ mind. He can’t form words anymore, his whole being focussed on the sensation of Porthos fucking him - of Athos fucking his mouth.

Because that’s what he’s _doing_ , his tongue pushing in and out of Aramis’ mouth, playful and dirty, as he holds Aramis’ face with both hands, compensating for the swaying motion that results from Porthos’ sharp thrusts.

Aramis whimpers and moans, loving every second, his body so very overwhelmed that tears are streaming down his cheeks, never wanting it to end. When Athos notices he pulls back and stares at Aramis’ face, and Aramis whines and tries to lift himself higher, wants that mouth back, wants to be kissed some more.

“Athos,” he slurs, leaning forward, chin raised, while Porthos growls behind him and his hips slap against Aramis’ ass. “Don’t stop, please don’t -”

“Oh God, you two are _killin’_ me,” Porthos groans. His hands clamp down on Aramis’ hips and he thrusts into him hard enough to make Aramis cry out and topple face first into Athos’ lap. He shivers when Porthos comes inside him, one hot spurt after the other, can’t help but follow him over the edge.

“Sorry,” Porthos pants afterwards as he carefully pulls out. “I meant to last a little longer.”

“Well,” Athos says somewhere above Aramis’ head. “Apparently we were killing you.”

He sounds breathless and endlessly fond, and Aramis undertakes a valiant attempt to push himself up and off his lap. He doesn’t quite manage.

But they help him, both of them, help him up and stretch him out on the bed between them, gentle and careful, until Aramis is in the middle of the mattress, gazing up at the ceiling. “Huh.”

“You good?” Porthos asks him as he settles down to his right, stroking a wayward lock of hair off Aramis’ forehead. “We didn’t overdo it, did we?”

All Aramis manages in reply is a rather dopey smile.

Athos clears his throat and lies down at his left side. “We definitely overdid it.”

“It was amazing,” Aramis slurs. He still feels drunk, in the very best way, overflowing with light. He grabs Porthos’ arm and pushes his face against his bicep, weak but insistent. “I feel amazing.”

“You need another bath,” Athos murmurs, trailing his fingertips over Aramis’ hip, marching them up to his rib cage. “We made a mess of you.”

“A beautiful mess,” Porthos adds, a touch of pride in his voice.

Aramis just sighs.

Athos kisses his shoulder. “I am glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Porthos snorts and Aramis feels a laugh reverberate against his chest. “Yes, you were very selfless today, weren’t you, love?”

“I was not,” Athos says, surprisingly. “Not at all.”

Aramis blinks his eyes open. He can feel Porthos holding his breath, and then Athos reaches out, makes a grab for Porthos’ hand and links their fingers, makes their palms rest against Aramis’ hip.

“I was in fact rather greedy today,” Athos adds then, his voice quiet. “I hope the two of you do not mind.”

Porthos releases his held breath with an affronted grunt. “Sometimes you’re so very stupid I wanna bang my head against the wall.”

Aramis grins. His sanity is slowly returning to him, and he brushes a kiss to Porthos’ bicep, then turns around so he can cuddle up to Athos. “I loved it.”

Athos gives him a hug, warm and tight. “Good.”

Porthos sighs. “You’re doin’ it again.”

“Killing you?” Athos asks, the smile audible in his voice.

“Yes,” Porthos confirms. “I’m by now extremely dead.”

“Well then,” Athos drawls, pushing closer to him and sandwiching Aramis between the two of them in the most glorious manner. “We should be able to find a way to revive you.”

Aramis swallows drily. Because Athos is hard again, and this does not bode well for his sanity.

Porthos appears to be aware. “You okay, kitten? Do you need a break?”

Athos kisses Aramis’ cheek. “I do not mean to overstrain you unduly, my love.”

Aramis gnaws on his lip, and takes a deep breath. “Actually, I would love to suck you off while Porthos fucks me again.”

His reward is appreciative silence.

“Well,” Porthos says eventually. “You’ll have to wait a bit until I can make that happen. But I’ve got a feelin’ that you won’t have to wait for very long. Not very long indeed.”

There’s a pause. Then he growls. “Jesus Fuckin’ Christ.”

Aramis fails spectacularly at containing his cheeky grin. “Leave him out of this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the long wait - I was out of town.


End file.
